


catch it down in new orleans

by starblessed



Category: Band of Brothers, The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Cousins, M/M, Unexpected Visitors, snafu is a creeper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-07
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-01-30 21:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12662001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starblessed/pseuds/starblessed
Summary: Gene’s not sure what he regrets more – inviting Babe down to Louisiana for the week while his cousin is also visiting, or saying it was fine if Babe brought his friends with him.Merriell is the last person Gene wants in the house when his boyfriend and his friends show up. But, well, it’s not like he can kick his cousin out. It seems like the only option for Babe and his posse is just to learn to live with him.Not if Gene can help it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Of course, the characters in this fic are based off of their fictional portrayals from the miniseries Band of Brothers, and I mean no disrespect to the real-life veterans!
> 
> Find me on tumblr at [renelemaires](http://renelemaires.tumblr.com/)!

Gene’s not sure what he regrets more – inviting Babe down to Louisiana for the week while his cousin is also visiting, or saying it was fine if Babe brought his friends with him.

His sister Minnie put it quite nicely. “We call him the creepy cousin for a damn good reason. It ain’t because he’s a friendly guy. We call him that cause he’s weird, a little scary, and has more problems than a gummed up truck engine. You’re supposed to keep him away from kids and open flames, not invite your boyfriend down to meet ‘im.”

To be fair, it’s not like Gene planned it this way. If he had his way, he’d keep his beau as far away from the weird side of his family as possible. Babe’s visit, however, was a very spur-of-the-moment thing – as in, Babe called him up one day and told him, _“I’ve gotta get out of Philly for, like, a week. Can I please crash at your place?”_ Apparently half a country away seemed like a far enough escape from whatever (absolutely, one hundred percent _not_ illegal) trouble Babe refuses to tell Gene about. If some city folks are after Babe for revenge, the last place they’d look would be the bayous of Louisiana. Gene wasn’t even surprised when Babe called him from the plane a few days later and sheepishly told him that the rest of his crew was coming along.

(Gene shudders to think of being crammed in alongside the Philly bunch on a long plane ride. He thinks he’d start looking for a parachute before they even made it off the runway.)

His cousin showing up on the Roe family’s doorstep on the morning before Babe is set to arrive: now, _that’s_ a surprise.

Merriell Shelton straightened up in the doorway, bared his teeth in a shameless grin, and flashed his lizard’s eyes at Gene. “Always a pleasure, Cuz.”

Any other weekend, Gene would have been charitable enough to let him in the house, at least. With Babe set to arrive tomorrow though, he was more inclined to slam the door in his face.

His maman was having none of that. “Merriell!” she exclaimed, pushing into the doorway past Gene. “That really you, boy? _Mon dieu,_ you grew up faster than a willow tree!”

Merriell endures the aggression of his aunt‘s hug, standing stiff as a board in her embrace. Gene can do nothing but gale as his mother pulls away, only to smack Merriell’s hollow cheeks.

“Still skinny as a willow, too. I know your Maman’s been feeding you well, so I guess we just gotta feed you more. Come on in, _bébé,_ don’t hang out here like a stranger!”

“You sure that I’m welcome?” Merriell inquires. His tone is pointed, in a way that will keep Gene’s mother from suspecting a thing — but his gaze flashes to Gene as he says it, and the message is clear.

“What sorta question is that? As if my sister’s baby boy could ever not be welcome in my home! Get in here, Merriell, and let’s get you looked after. Genie, will you put on some tea?”

Merriell caught Gene’s eye over his aunt’s shoulder and flashed him a wink. It was simple as that; Merriell Shelton was here to stay.

Merriell integrates himself into the house like a freaky sort of dry mold, and wasted no time making himself at home. He bedded down on the couch (the guest room, Gene insisted, was for Babe and his friends — as if Babe would be sleeping anywhere that wasn’t Gene’s bed), drank all of the beer, and leered at Gene and his siblings over the top of the _Bayou Chene Times._ If Merriell is good at one thing, it’s showing up when he’s not welcome. If he’s good at anything _else,_ it’s making people so uncomfortable that they want to crawl out of their skin.

(Minnie and Winnie, the twins – who aren’t actually twins, but are so alike in every way that the family considers them a single unit – hate Merriell with a passion. He antagonizes them, they snap at him right back, and it turns the entire house into a war zone. By dinner on Merriell’s first night, Gene is ready to rent a hotel room; he won’t be able to endure them for long.)

Merriell is the last person Gene wants in the house when his boyfriend and his friends show up. But, well, it’s not like he can kick his cousin _out._ His mother would never let him, or forgive him for suggesting it; his aunt would swim across the entire bayou just to slap some sense into him. Gene isn’t willing to risk the wrath of his mother and aunt, no matter how unbearable Merriell might be.

So, when a gaudy orange taxi rolls through the bayou and pulls up in front of Gene’s family home, Gene is waiting at attention in the doorway; and Merriell is lounging on the porch.

“Where in the sweet hell,” Merriell mutters, “did they find a taxi in the middle of the swamp?”

Gene doesn’t answer. He knows better than to question Babe’s way of doing things by now. They could have driven the taxi all the way down from Philly, for all he knows, and he really doesn’t want to find out.

As each person steps out (there are so many folks inside that the taxi might as well be a clown car), it couldn’t be more obvious that the city-dwellers are out of place. Fran is wearing a sunhat and sunglasses. Bill is grimacing down at the mud staining his pristine white sneakers. Julian’s in khaki shorts, for god’s sake, like some sort of Pennsylvanian Steve Irwin. Spina has a map under one arm, and a laptop under the other. Worst of all, Babe’s Irish porcelain skin all but makes him luminescent in the warm bayou sunlight. The shorts he’s wearing do his bony legs no favors. Gene has no doubt he’ll be red as a cherry before the day is out, and moaning about how much the sunburn hurts to anyone willing to listen.

He doesn’t get much of a chance to gape at his out-of-place guests, however. Babe catches sight of his boyfriend and breaks into a grin wide enough to outshine a New Orleans Mardi Gras.

_“Gene!”_

He rushes forward. The next second, Gene finds him swept up in an enthusiastic hug. His arms lock around Babe’s shoulders; he pulls him down to plant a kiss against warm lips. In an instant, Babe is pliant against him, and Gene has to stop himself from grinning. He’s _missed_ this.

When they break apart, Babe is flushed as red as his hair, and he’s still beaming. “Oh god, _you,_ you look –” he says, and is cut off by Gene kissing him again. “Great,” he finishes, when they part for air once more. “You look incredible.”

From over Gene’s shoulder, he hears his cousin whistle. No force on earth is getting him to tear his eyes from Babe just to tell Merriell Shelton off.

Then again, part of him wonders if the Philadelphia gang are actually from earth. If they were some bizarre pack of aliens, it would explain a lot.

An unholy shriek splits the bayou, and _that’s_ what gets Gene to tear his attention away from Babe. To be fair, Babe does the same thing. He reels around at the first sound of his friends in trouble, and is already bounding towards them before he catches sight of something that makes him freeze in his tracks.

That’s when Babe screams, and after that everything pretty much falls to chaos.

People are wailing. The taxi’s horn blares. The tourists run around each other like chickens with no heads, any good sense completely abandoned in their panic.

“HOLY SHIT,” someone is hollering. It’s shrill enough that it could be Babe, but there’s an equal chance of it being Bill, or Julian. It’s definitely not Fran. “THAT’S A DINOSAUR. THAT IS A GODDAMN DINOSAUR.”

Fran has climbed on top of the taxi, armed with her purse and ready to use it. Spina is hammering on the car windows, but the driver has locked the door. Babe has leapt into Bill’s arms, clinging to his neck like a damsel in distress. Julian is on the ground, curled up with his hands clasped over his head, ready for the end of times. Guarnere is, in classic Wild Bill style, ready for a fight.

They’re all losing their minds over an alligator.

To be more accurate, they’re losing their minds over Etienne.

Etienne has lived around their home for as long as Gene can remember. He’s a friend of the family. Not their pet, of course (“You can never tame nature,” Gene’s late grandmére once told him, back when he was just a small, solemn-eyed little boy who listened to everything and forgot nothing. “You gotta to learn to live with it, else it’ll eat you up.”), but a friend all the same. Etienne and the Roe family have an unspoken agreement: you don’t bother us, we won’t bother you. The Roe children were kept well out of the way of the ancient gator, though little Gene always dared to venture too close when his mother’s back was turned. In exchange, Etienne gobbled up the pests around the Roe home, and left all the “good things” (like people) alone. Etienne isn’t someone Gene’s Maman will invite in for dinner, but he’s harmless.

Mostly.

Gene wonders if he‘s got a taste for Philadelphians.

Bill drops Babe to the ground, and Babe immediately wraps himself around the taxi’s tire. He looks like he’s crying. Everyone’s screaming so loud that Gene can’t tell whose voice belongs to who.

He takes a few steps back onto the porch. For a few moments, all he can do is watch in bemusement. He’s jolted out of his daze by an low whistle.

“Well. You’ve _really_ thought this through,” Merriell drawls, and takes a long drag from his cigarette.

Gene sighs through his teeth, and debates the merits of intervening. He could let them wear themselves out – it seems easiest. Then again, if they keep this racket up, the entire bayou is going to be awake, and old Etienne might just get offended enough do do something about it.

So he reluctantly clears his throat and steps forward. “Everybody,” he calls; and when this gets no response, “everybody!”

Nothing. He’s not sure what he expected.

A sudden projectile flies past his head, not leaving Gene time to duck. A porcelain mug (Gene’s _favorite_ mug) shatters against the nearest tree with a loud crash. The noise is jarring enough that, all at once, the chorus of screams cuts off.

Merriell is standing up now, staring at the group with a wide-eyed, unreadable expression. He’s doing the _thing_ again, Gene realizes, and fights not to moan. The creepy thing. This is why Merriell is the cousin they don’t like to leave alone in the house.

“Oh, look at that. Y’all do know how to shut your mouths.” Merriell’s lips curl back in what no sane person would call a grin. He looks thrilled, or like he’s just passed a kidney stone. “Sure is a lot nicer ‘round here when it’s quiet.”

Babe is the one to break the spell that Merriell seems to have cast over the group. His attention swivels back to Gene, and he chokes on air as he fights to form words. “G-G-Gene! There’s a, there’s, it’s a goddamn –”

“That’s Etienne,” Gene interjects, stepping off the porch again. “Afraid I’m gonna need y'all to quiet down. My Maman’s inside cooking, and all this screaming’s not good for the gumbo.”

Fran is staring at him as if he’s lost his mind – even though she’s the one clinging to the hood of a taxi. “You gave that monster a name?”

“He’s our neighbor. We’re friendly.” To prove it, Gene gives Etienne a wave. The old gator, smart enough to not want to get involved, slinks back into the depths of the bayou.

Only when he’s gone do the Philly crew seem it safe enough to exit Crisis Mode. Babe peels himself off the ground, while Bill lifts Fran off the hood of the car. No one bothers to help Julian out of the mud. When they all turn to Gene, wide eyed and expectant, Gene is reminded of schoolkids waiting for the teacher’s instruction. He’s never wanted to be a teacher.

“Lets go inside,” he says after a beat. “Time for you to meet to family. My brothers are out, but my sisters are in, and so’s my mother. They’re all dying to meet you.”

“And who’s this asshole?” Bill demands as they pass Merriell (he pulls Fran a little closer to him when Merriell leers at her). His cousin doesn’t seem offended in the least, so Gene just rolls his eyes.

“That’s Merriell. He’s part of the family, but he ain’t supposed to be here now. You can ignore him.”

As the Philly gang filters through the doorway, one after the other, Gene feels like a mama duckling counting heads. Only when he gets to the last head – full of messy ginger hair – does he pause to look up into Babe’s face.

His boyfriend ducks his head. “You got any more alligators around here?”

Gene smirks. “They’ll all be friendly to you, I promise.” (Unless he’s counting Merriell.)

The uncertainty lingering on Babe’s face disappears, only to be replaced by a bright grin. It goes miles in soothing Gene’s frayed nerves. “What a relief,” Babe says, and lays a hand on Gene’s shoulder. “That might not have been the best start, but this is gonna be a great vacation, Gene. I’m sure of it.”

Gene bathes in the confidence of his boyfriend’s words. He wants more than anything to believe that Babe is right.

The jagged smile he glimpses on Merriell’s face, however, suggests that Babe and his friends are in for more trouble than they’re prepared to handle.

* * *

They make it for six days – which is nearly a week longer than Gene had been sure Babe would last. Six days after Babe and his friends rode up in their gaudy yellow taxi, Gene’s boyfriend pulls him aside.

“We need to talk,” Babe declares, sober as a judge. It’s rare that Gene sees this amount of gravity from his boyfriend. Babe prefers to deal with serious matters lightheartedly, if he deals with them at all. The solemn look in his eyes now lets him know that this isn’t a joke, so Gene is prepared for just about anything when Babe tugs him into the hallway.

“We’ve gotta find another way to do this,” Babe declares. Some of Gene’s alarm fades, only to be replaced by dismay. So _that’s_ what this is about.

Gene sighs. He’s been expecting this conversation for a long time.

It’s not rocket science. The Roe family home is far from big, with just three bedrooms and a sofa. It’s currently being stretched to fit a lot of people. His siblings all live out of the home, but Gene’s still got his room at his mother’s place. That’s where Babe has slept for the majority of his stay. Bill and Fran get the guest room, Spina has been camping out under the kitchen table, and Julian was the one unlucky enough to wind up sharing the living room with Merriell.

He isn’t envied. _No one_ wants to bunk up with Merriell.

His mother fretted over having so many guests in such cramped quarters, but Gene knows she’s eating it up. His mother is a born hostess, and since Gene’s father passed away early this year she hasn’t gotten many chances to entertain. Gene may have moved back to Louisiana from Philly to keep an eye on her, but it’s a well-known secret that she’s been lonely. That’s the only reason Gene doesn’t regret imposing all these visitors on his poor Maman. He knows how grateful she is to have a little life in the house again.

"You’ve got a wonderful boy, Gene,” she told him several nights before as they washed dishes side by side. “And he’s got some fantastic friends. They’re good people, _cher._ I couldn’t be happier for you.”

Hearing such words from his mother made Gene feel impossibly warm inside. Knowing that she approves of Babe is a massive relief. Every one of Gene’s siblings, who’ve all met Babe since he arrived, have declared him a catch.

However, the situation is far from that simple. Babe didn’t just have to win over Gene’s family. He needed to learn to live with Merriell.

And, well, that’s a tall order for anyone.

Bill and Fran were weary around him for a few days, which was understandable. Gene didn’t know how to tell them that Merriell was the type of man who’d be far more interested in Bill than his girlfriend, no matter how much he likes to leer. Thankfully (?), Merriell wasted no time making that clear.

He’s been fascinated by Julian for the past couple of days. The youngest of Babe’s friends doesn’t seem to know what to make of the attention. When Merriell is intrigued by someone, he locks onto them like a vice, unwilling to let go. Julian is obviously not prepared for this kind of attention. He responds to Merriell’s unflinching stares by ignoring them, and his teasing the only way he knows how – firing right back.

“You clean yourself as well as you clean your plates, boo?” Merriell drawls after dinner one night. Julian’s brows furrow into a glare.

“Yeah, I bother to shower every day. Not something you’d know about, huh Shelton?”

Merriell leaned back in his seat, a slow grin spreading across his face. A flicker of discomfort crosses Julian’s face, and Gene almost feels bad for him.

(He’s just happy Merriell is keeping his eyes off Babe. On the first night of their visit, he stared at Babe almost the entire night. It was as if he was transfixed; everybody started getting uncomfortable. Only after he got a little too handsy did Gene snap — lashing out before Babe could react to the hand on his ass, he gripped Merriell’s wrist hard enough to bruise. Merriell looked startled enough by the reaction from his soft-spoken cousin that he hasn’t tried anything again. If he does, Gene might well kill him.)

“Why is he _here?”_ Spina hissed to him at breakfast. Merriell sat on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, as he crunches on an apple. He didn’t even try to pretend he wasn’t eavesdropping. Gene fought to ignore the smirk looming over Spina’s shoulder.

“He’s a wanderer. When Merriell don’t have anywhere else to go, he winds up with family. That makes this his home for as long as he needs it.”

Spina crinkled his nose. “Some loyalty. My Ma’d smack any of us silly if we tried a thing like that with our aunts.”

Merriell’s taken more than his fair share of beatings, Gene thinks. Maybe he just can’t act like a normal human being because he didn’t grow up in a normal home. He did not get the happy childhood of Gene and his siblings, with two devoted parents and a strong support system. For Merriell, nothing was ever stable. Now, his father is dead, buried, and not missed by anyone; Merriell’s mother has her little girls, and is struggling to make ends meet. If there’s anything Merriell needs right now, it’s stability.

So Gene can understand where his Maman is coming from when she insists that Merriell needs to stay. He only wishes his cousin weren’t so good at souring this visit for everyone else.

“I know,” Gene says to Babe, holding up a hand. “I know. It’s too cramped in here, and Shelton ain’t easy to live with. You don’t gotta tell me.”

“He stole my cereal this morning, Gene. He just slid it out from under me, sat at the other end of the table, and ate it. Stared at me the whole time.” Babe looks haunted by the memory. “Who does that?”

Merriell Shelton, that’s who.

“He took Spina’s hat. We don’t know where he put it.”

“Try under the couch cushions,” Gene suggests. He knows Merriell keeps a large horde of odds and ends there, most of them stolen. He found an entire pair of shoes under there once. He still has no clue who they belonged to. There was also a fork, a pair of earrings, a few seashells, a dictionary, empty shell casings, acorns, and a lone sock. That’s just what Gene managed to see. He knows Merriell’s got a lot more.

Babe shakes his head, looking exasperated. “And he keeps grabbin’ Julian’s ass. There’s nothing there for him to grab, but the bastard’s determined. Julian feels harassed.”

Gene heaves a sigh. “I’ll tell him to keep his hands to himself. Again.”

“That’s all I ask, Gene.” Babe looks regretful. Just to show there are no hard feelings, Gene grabs him around the waist and pulls him into a kiss.

When they pull away, Babe is grinning at him; he leans in close to Gene’s ear, both of them reluctant to let go. What Babe whispers, however, is the last thing Gene expects.

“Can you get my wallet back too?”

He pushes Babe away. “He took your wallet?”

“I don’t know how! It was in my damn pocket, and next thing I know my driver’s license is taped to the front door. He won’t tell me where he put it, Gene!”

Gene closes his eyes and sighs. He only knows one thing for certain; this Merriell situation is getting out of hand, and it needs to end before there’s any bloodshed. (This isn’t a metaphor. With Merriell and the Philly crew in the house, anything could happen.)

He has to find a solution.

* * *

“I’ll give you a hundred dollars if you get outta here.”

Merriell cranes his neck up from his bagel. Somehow, with his head tilted at a 90-degree angle, he still manages to stare Gene straight in the eyes. Gene can feel that crocodile gaze rolling over him, picking through him bit by bit for any tick that could let Merriell know he’s lying. After a moment, his cousin lets out a huff of breath.

“Generous offer, cuz,” he hums. “You that desperate to get rid of me?”

“Yes. A hundred dollars, final offer.”

Merriell’s eyes sharpen, go from scrutinizing to predatory in the space of a breath. His lips curl back in a caricature of a grin that leaves Gene’s skin prickling. “Make it five hundred and you got yourself a deal.”

Gene grits his teeth. “That ain’t happening, Merriell.”

His cousin sighs, leaning back in his chair, and swings his feet up on the kitchen table. If Gene’s Maman could see him, she’s smack him so hard his teeth rattled, but she’s showing the Philly visitors around town, and Merriell knows he’s safe. His smirk drips with smugness, thick enough to drown in.

“Then I guess I’m staying right where I am,” he sighs, and takes a large bite of his bagel.

* * *

So, he could have taken the high road and not tried to bribe Merriell. That would be the right thing to do. Gene knows that, and there’s a part of him that regrets ever stooping so low.

It’s just… he has _needs,_ alright? He wants to spend some time with his boyfriend, and he can’t do that with Merriell haunting the house and constantly leering at Babe like he’s a piece of raw meat.

Gene has already taught him to keep his hands far away from Babe, but the same can’t be said for eyes. He suspects (not just from the attention Merriell pays to Babe, but the picture of an unfamiliar ginger man that serves as his phone’s lockscreen) that his cousin has a special interest in redheads.

“You ain’t gonna stare at my boyfriend like that again,” he warns one night after Babe has retreated to bed (and safety). Merriell looks disinterested in what he has to say. He’s busy using his knife to trace patterns on his aunt’s nice tablecloth, stopping just short of tearing the fabric. He doesn’t look up at Gene, only smirks and clicks his tongue.

“Or what?”

“Or you’re not gonna have eyes to look at him with.”

Gene’s threat is so deadpan that it jolts Merriell from his nonchalance. He looks up to find his cousin staring at him, unflinching. Something in Gene’s expression must make it clear that he means business, because Merriell prickles up like a gator’s mouth and starts getting twitchy.

“You threatening me, cuz?”

“I am,” Gene replies evenly. “This is me being nice. Don’t make me get mean, Shelton. You won’t like it.”

He leaves Merriell gaping after him, and doesn’t let himself smile until he’s safely out of sight. He might not be taking lessons from the _Bill Guarnere School of Effective Intimidation,_ but he thinks he does pretty well on his own.

* * *

Speaking of Bill Guarnere.

“I’m gonna wring your neck and use your spine as a fuckin’ toothpick!”

Gene and Babe jolt awake in each others’ arms to the sound of Bill’s thunderous bellows echoing throughout the house. Babe lets out a groan, burying his face in the pillow. Reluctantly, Gene extracts himself from his boyfriend’s embrace. The last thing he wants is to be stitching anyone up tonight, Bill or Merriell.

When he steps into the hallway, he doesn’t even know why he’s surprised to find a nearly-naked Bill Guarnere pinning his cousin against the wall. Fran lingers in the doorway behind him, equally unclothed and looking fit to explode. Spina and Julian both have the good sense to stay out of the way, not wanting to get caught in the crossfire of Guarnere’s rage, but Gene charges straight through.

“What the hell’s goin’ on here?” he demands. There’s fire and brimstone in his voice; but he sees his mother’s silhouette at the end of the hallway, and he knows they’re in for much worse if this situation doesn’t get settled now.

“He busted in on us!” Bill shouts, at the same time Fran exclaims, “The little fucker was _watching!”_

“I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Sounded like a dyin’ animal in there,” Merriell replies. He’s not even trying to hide his grin, and looks as thrilled with himself as a kid in a candy store. _That’s_ the most unnerving thing.

Gene rounds on him, incredulous. When his cousin shrugs, he’s tempted to grab him by the scruff of his neck and shake him.

Thankfully, he doesn’t get the chance. Maman charges in at that moment, armed with her broom and the fury of a woman who only gets five hours of sleep a night, and puts an end to the whole thing.

“Merriell Shelton, you get back to bed and don’t bother anybody else! The two of you, simmer down! There’ll be no fightin’ in my house or else you’re all welcome to leave, and that includes my son!”

Shamefaced (for all his brashness, he’d never dare to disrespect someone’s mother), Bill heads back into his room. Fran follows, casting one last glare at Merriell over her shoulder. Merriell bares his teeth as the door swings shut.

“I don’t want to hear one more complaint,” Maman warns, wagging her broom in Merriell’s face. Merriell is solemn until the moment she vanishes back into her bedroom.

Gene finally turns his stone-hard glare on his cousin. “You’re a damn catastrophe.”

Merriell says nothing; he just raises his hands in the air, whistling a low tune as he slowly saunters backwards into the living room.

* * *

“Babe,” says Gene – very calm, all things considered. “Who the hell is in bed with us?”

There is a bony elbow digging into his ribs, and a leg twined with his that definitely does not belong to his boyfriend. When he fell asleep, it was with Babe by his side. Now someone’s pressed up against him, alright, but it sure as hell isn’t Babe.

To his credit, Babe doesn’t seem alarmed at all. He shifts in bed, reaching out an arm, and in the darkness Gene feels it close around his shoulder. He might be unfamiliar with whoever’s lying next to him, but he’d know Babe’s touch anywhere.

“Don’t get mad. Julian wanted to sleep here tonight.”

“Let me guess,” Gene sighs. “He needed to get away from Merriell.”

“He’s watching him sleep,” Babe confirms. Julian, who Gene had assumed to be sleeping, lets out a dissatisfied grunt.

“I’ve never felt so hunted,” he grumbles. Babe’s comforting touch leaves Gene’s shoulder to clap his friend on the back.

 _This is it,_ Gene decides. It’s one thing to ruin this vacation for him and everybody else, but now Merriell Shelton is inadvertently taking away the one sacred place he gets to share with Babe – the bedroom.

Merriell needs to go. 

* * *

So, Gene discards his morals again, and steals his cousin’s phone.

He’s out of options at this point. Bribing Merriell won’t work; threats just get him excited; and the more everyone else chafes at his presence, the more inclined Merriell seems to be to stick around. Gene has to go to a higher power – and if his mother won’t kick him out, well, he has to go to someone who’s authority matters to Merriell even more.

What’s the harm of one more guest, anyways?

“Hi… Snafu? I don’t know any Snafu, sorry… no, this is Merriell’s cousin. My name’s Eugene Roe… no, I’m sorry, I don’t know why he hasn’t called you. I don’t know why Merriell does half the things he does… well, why don’t you come down here yourself and ask him? Door’s always open.”

When he hangs up the phone, it’s with the renewed knowledge that he’s fighting a war worth winning. Merriell has his own personal problems; instead of sorting them out, he’s mucking everybody else's lives up. Gene is doing him a favor.

Morals be damned, he needs his peace of mind back.

* * *

Eugene Sledge shows up at their front door that Sunday.

Merriell takes one look at the serious-faced redhead and drops Maman’s teapot on the kitchen floor. No one has a chance to register what’s happening before Snafu has torn out the back door and is taking off through the bayou.

“Shelton!”

Just from one look at him, Gene can tell that Sledge is no more equipped for trudging through the wilderness than Babe is. He must have less experience with alligators than any of the Philly crew; he’s wearing _white slacks and a polo,_ for god’s sake.

None of this stops him from sprinting after Merriell as fast as his skinny legs can carry him.

For a few seconds, the other residents of the kitchen simply gape after them in shock. There’s not much else they can do. It’s not like they can have any more tea.

Then Spina exhales and grabs a piece of toast from the place in the middle of the table. “Someone pass the OJ, please?”

So, breakfast continues as normal.

No one worries about Merriell or Sledge until about twenty minutes later, when there’s still no sign of either of them. Gene would like nothing more than to push his pain-in-the-neck cousin out of his mind; but the lingering worry that he’s managed to drown himself, or drown Sledge, or they both had an unfortunate run-in with Etienne, nags at him. His last few bites of breakfast are heavy in his mouth. By the time he’s finished, anxiety has him tapping his feet against the tile floors.

His mother is the one to finally notice. She rolls her eyes at him. “Well? Go find ‘em, if you’re so interested.”

Gene springs up from the table, and Babe follows in the next second. Together, they rush out the back door and begin to scour the Roe’s lush homestead for any sign of either runaway.

Gene has no luck for about five minutes before he hears Babe’s immistakeable hiss of his name. For a moment, he’s startled. Then he catches sight of Babe crouched behind some bushes at the far end of the yard, gesturing to him.

He crouches down next to him and almost gasps in surprise at what he sees. His cousin is on the ground; Sledge, somehow, has pinned him down and is sitting on top of him. For a second he’s sure he’s about to see Merriell get his face pummeled in _(finally,_ a wicked little part of his brain thinks) before he realizes they they’re not fighting at all. Sledge is on top of Merriell, leaning in so they’re nose-to-nose, but they aren’t arguing.

They’re… talking. In calm, low voices, too quiet for Gene to pick up. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but the quick kiss Sledge presses to Merriell’s lips a few seconds later makes the whole thing pretty clear. When he pulls back, Merriell’s face is bright red; but Sledge is grinning.

“That ought to teach you a lesson,” Sledge tells him in a louder voice. When he leans back in, both Babe and Gene have the decency to look away.

For a moment they can only stare at each other, blinking in surprise.

“Huh,” says Babe.

Gene echoes the statement. “Wow.”

Leaning back on his heels, Gene sighs and runs his hand through his hair. He gets the feeling that Merriell Shelton isn’t going to be such a nuisance anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

It doesn’t take Gene long to decide he likes Eugene Sledge very much indeed.

He’s a lot like Babe in all the ways that count, and maybe that’s what endears him to Gene the most. They’re both the same flavor of stubborn, and have a similar off-kilter sense of humor. When they get angry — and their tempers aren’t far off from each other, though Sledge is more subdued, while Babe will never hesitate to throw fists — their warm eyes spark in the same way. They have similar grins, crooked and optimistic. There’s something less lighthearted about Sledge, something a little less energetic and a lot more thoughtful, but that same lionhearted vein of recklessness runs through them both. Finally, of course, there’s the mess of red hair upon their heads.

Much as it pains Gene to admit it, for once he understands where his cousin is coming from. If Babe wasn’t everything he ever wanted, he could almost fall in love with Sledge himself.

(Whenever thoughts like these cross his mind, he forces himself to shake out of it. He knows that his feelings are by no means real; his mind is just seeing Sledge as an off-brand version of Babe. Then his memory flashes back to how Merriell’s eyes used to trail Babe across the room, and his temper flares up hot enough to incinerate.)

His mind doesn’t really make the connection, however — not the way it should, the way that must have been obvious — until breakfast four days into Sledge’s visit. Babe and Sledge sit next to each other at the end of the table. Gene looks up from his jam to find Bill Guarnere wielding a grin like a knife’s blade.

“Well,” he says loudly, “I’ll be damned.”

“We got that one figured out already,” murmurs Merriell. Gene kicks him under the table.

“What?” Babe looks confused, brows knitted together in that way that makes his nose crinkle up. Gene’s chest tightens for a split second as he’s seized by how helplessly in love he is. Dammit, he’d move the moon and stars for Babe if he asked.

Then Bill cackles and jabs an index finger at them both, with all the suddenness of a fist. “I ain’t the only one who sees it, right?” he demands, glancing around the table. “Who woulda thought it runs in Doc’s family?”

“What?” Sledge echoe. He doesn’t do the nose thing, thank god. Gene exhales a sigh.

“Look at them,” Bill says; and, when no one chimes in their agreement, _“look_ at them. You see it, right?”

“I see it,” Gene’s maman, of all people, chimes in, with her face half-buried in her coffee. “Wish I didn’t, but I do.”

“You marry a redhead, Maman?” Bill inquiries, cheshire grin still stretched across his face. Gene’s mother shakes her head, smirking, and that’s the moment it hits Gene with full force.

He sputters on his coffee, spewing half a mouthful back into the cup and the rest across the table. Merriell lurches forward like he’s been tugged, head swerving back and forth between Guarnere and the two redheads in a desperate double-take. There’s an expression of panic on his face like Gene has never seen before — save when Sledge showed up on their front door.

Slowly, Merriell’s hand wanders up to his hair, tugs it, then falls back down. He shoves a piece of toast into his mouth, keeping his wide-eyed gaze fixed on Babe and Sledge.

“Wait, no — _what?”_ Babe and Sledge are still staring around the table, looking baffled. They’re the only ones who haven’t noticed what’s just become glaringly obvious. “What is it?”

Gene slowly sets the mug down on the table. He can’t tell if his hand is shaking or if it’s just his peace of mind being rattled.

The two of them are almost identical.

All the differences Gene’s picked up on already still stand, but there are so many more similarities. It’s so blatant that it’s like he and Merriell did it on purpose. Their physical appearances, their personalities — even the way they look when they’re starting to get annoyed — dammit, it’s like Babe’s looking in a funhouse mirror at some alternate version of himself, except Gene is staring at them both and he’s the one horrified.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice,” Maman says, staring at him like he’s a premium brand of idiot. “Eugene Roe, _dieu et ses anges —“_

“I don’t know what y’all think you’re seein’, but I don’t see nothin’,” interjects Merriell. The wan, almost sick expression on his face gives him up for a liar. “Ain’t nothin’ there. You’re all nuts.”

“Sure we are,” scoffs Julian around a mouthful of fruit. “Everybody’s noticed. Geez, Babe, you didn’t pick up on it?”

“Pick up on what?” Babe exclaims. Next to him, Sledge looks like he’s trying to solve a very difficult puzzle, and failing.

Gene buried his head in his hands and slumps over the table. This is what an existential crisis feels like. He must look pathetic, and he is, but he can’t bring himself to care. How could he and Merriell — his cousin, who’s so far removed from him in personality that they’re practically from different planets — be similar in this? This one thing, after never agreeing with each other in their lives?

“Ain’t nothin’ there. Somebody’s eyes needa get checked, but there’s nothing weird here. Not a thing.”

“Merriell,” Gene moans, “shut up.”

* * *

 

If he'd been hoping this conversation would alleviate Bill’s (sadistic, kind of morbid) interest in the case of the unlikely couples, Gene would have been wrong. He did not, however, because anyone who could hope a thing like that doesn’t really know Bill Guarnere.

Instead, he does his best to stay out of Bill’s way — or at least out of his reach. Bill can interrogate him at the dinner table without shame, but he can’t come into Gene’s room while he’s working. He won’t interrupt Gene if he’s cooking in the kitchen, because Gene’s usually holding a knife. Worst case scenario, if Gene finds himself cornered, Babe is usually not far away; and he’s always available to be caught around the waist and pulled down for a passionate kiss before Bill can start his interrogation.

Gene becomes very adept at outmaneuvering Bill Guarnere. Merriell’s no fool either; he’s got the observational skills of a seasoned poker player, and the cunning of one who cheats. When he sees Bill coming, he _hides,_ and then no one can find him.

There’s still Sledge, however. Poor Sledge.

Sledge doesn’t take the hint.

Bill winds up cornering his cousin’s beau with such ease that Gene doesn’t even feel bad. If Sledge wanted to avoid an uncomfortable conversation, he ought to get better at running, or causing a more interesting distraction. No one pities the mouse that walks right into the trap.

Sledge is sitting at the kitchen table, innocently nibbling a piece of toast. When he spots Bill making a beeline towards him, he smiles.

Oh, the poor, naive thing.

“You,” Bill declares, sliding in across from Sledge at the table, “are an enigma.”

Sledge blinks. “Pardon?”

Bill looks a little proud to know a word that Sledge, by appearance, does not. He grows a little more self-assured, which Gene is horrified to realize is possible. (No one likes to admit there are things on earth more confident that Bill Guarnere — so when you see Bill Guarnere being even _more_ confident than usual, it’s like staring into the sun.)

Sledge just looks bemused, and a little disgruntled to be interrupted during breakfast. Bill is grinning like a cat who’s just trapped an innocent canary.

“All I wanna know is how you do it,” he says. “Like, how does it work? How do you put up with things?”

“I don’t follow,” Sledge replies, sounding like he doesn’t really want to.

“I saw that man use a fork to pick his teeth the other day. While sitting on the kitchen table. Barefoot.”

There’s no question who they’re talking about. Sledge just raises his eyebrows. “Was he wearing pants?”

“Yeah.”

“Then I’ve seen worse.” He takes another bite of toast, and reaches for his juice.

Bill waits for the right moment. “So what’s sex like?”

Sledge chokes, sputtering a mouthful of juice into his glass and across the table around him. Wincing, Gene reaches for a roll of paper towels, paying no attention to Sledge’s continued gasps for breath.

“I mean, it’s gotta be a little weird, right? A lot weird. Does he, like… prefer to watch? Or — don’t even try tellin’ me he ain’t into some freaky stuff, come on, _look_ at him.”

“I don’t think I’m going to discuss this,” Sledge wheezes.

“Alright, alright. Sorry to offend your delicate sensibilities.” Bill doesn’t seem deterred at all. It takes nothing short of a large explosion, an ice cream truck, or the apocalypse to deter Bill (and even the last one is questionable). “You mind if I ask one thing, though?”

Sledge side-eyes him, which Bill apparently takes as a green light. “How did it happen?”

This is a question that’s been on Gene’s mind a lot too. He can’t lie — the erratic Merriell and steady Sledge seem like an odd couple; even odder than he and Babe. With himself and Babe, however, they learned to reconcile their differences and make them work. Gene loves everything about Babe, warts and all. His annoying habits, his messiness, his awful cooking; all of that is a part of Babe, and Gene wouldn’t change him for the world.

When it comes to his cousin, however, it seems like there are more warts than anyone could know what to do with. Gene wishes he could be as willing to see the best in someone as Babe is; but in his opinion Merriell is more frog than prince. Quiet, unassuming Sledge doesn’t seem like the guy willing to take on a challenge like Merriell.

Maybe he’s underestimated him, however. At that moment Gene sees something flash in Sledge’s dark eyes. It’s like a comet — there one second and gone the next — but it burns hot enough to blind him. When Sledge sets his toast down, his gaze is once again mild — and focused on Bill like a laser.

“We actually met in the military. We both served in Afghanistan; Marine Corps. We were brothers in arms before anything else. Snafu saved my life more times than I can count, and I did the same for him. It started somewhere during that time, and that was it.”

Bill’s eyebrows creep up; his posture straightens. He always has respect for another military man. Gene is surprised too. He’d never have taken Sledge for a military man, though he’ll admit it explains a few things about him. The solemn demeanor, the cleanliness, how early he rises every morning… it all adds up.

(Not that Merriell seems to have taken much of that away from his time in the military. His vocabulary, however, gained more colors than a bag of M&Ms.)

“On our way home, he left me on the train. We had each other’s numbers, but he never contacted me; I called once, and he didn’t pick up. I assumed he wanted to leave the past where it was.”

After Merriell’s four of duty, the whole family figured he was just trying to get back on his feet. It never occurred to them that he could also be trying to leave more than memories behind him. Gene winces, and considers comforting Sledge, but thinks better of it. The guy doesn’t seem at all broken up; besides, it all worked out.

“That’s Snaf— Merriell and I in a nutshell, I guess.” Sledge leans back, looking satisfied with himself. Bill and Gene can only exchange incredulous glances.

“And you like him?” Bill manages after a few moments. “You really — really —“

“I’d give my life for him,” Sledge replies without a beat of hesitation. “I love him more than I’ve ever loved anyone.”

Well, that’s that, then. Bill sits back, apparently satisfied (or maybe he’s just run out of questions). All Gene can do is shake his head.

He gets the funny feeling that he’ll never understand how his cousin and his boyfriend work; but when he looks at the love shining in Sledge’s eyes, there’s no question that it’s real.

* * *

 

Babe doesn’t actually figure it out until the day he leaves to return home.

(Sledge knew. Sledge probably knew from the beginning, or he figured it out along the way, and didn’t want to say anything. Babe isn’t stupid, but he’d miss a beagle in a room full of basset hounds. Sledge probably noticed the similarities around the time Gene did, if not sooner.)

He can’t stand another week with his cousin — especially when Merriell’s got his beau, and promises to be even more disgusting now that Gene’s own boy is headed back home — so he decides to follow Babe back to Philadelphia for a week. He doesn’t have to worry about his mom. Merriell promises he’ll look after her; more importantly, _Sledge_ promises.

All it takes is a little maneuvering and Fran’s considerable persuasive (threatening) charm, and Gene’s got a seat next to Babe on the flight back to Philly. He can’t help but be excited. He’s missed his friends; he’s missed the hospital; he’s missed the place he called home for three years. That was where he began his residency, where he grew close to Renée and Spina, where he _fell in love_ with Babe. Philly has a place in his heart that time and distance cannot encroach upon, and he knows the door is always open for him to come back.

 _One day,_ he tells himself. As soon as his Maman is back on her feet, and he feels alright leaving her alone. Spina has assured him that his room in their apartment has gone untouched. He knows better than to think his mother will leave the bayou, but maybe she’ll be alright with visiting for a while, too, just to see the city…

“Gene.”

Babe nudges him with his elbow, jolting Gene from his thoughts. Gene looks up and smiles.

“Renée still make her hot chocolate like she used to?”

“The real Belgian stuff? With whipped cream?” Babe’s eyes light up. “You bet. Winters and Nixon still running their bar. Nixon still does barely any work and drinks more liquor than anybody else. Buck’s getting pretty famous at his law firm now. Shifty and Tab are thinking of starting up their own animal shelter. Luz is busy with his stand up, Speirs is still into shady stuff, Harry’s not sure whether it’s the kids or teachers at his school that annoy him more —“

“So everything’s pretty much the same as I left it?”

Babe grins. “It's a city, Gene. Nothing stays the same. But yeah, I think you’ll recognize everything the way it used to be.”

Gene almost feels silly for worrying that they would all leave him behind.

The plane ride is as long as Gene expected, and twice as chaotic. He knew flying with Babe and his friends was a bad idea, but he never imagined just how many problems they’d cause. Bill and Fran spend half the flight bickering and the other half aggressively making out with each other. When the stewardess comes over to ask them to stop, she’s hit with a potato chip from the impromptu war Julian started with the kid sitting across from him. Spina snores so loud that Gene’s worries he’ll drown out the engines. What’s worse, the in-flight entertainment is dry as dust. At one point, Babe enthusiastically suggests they join the mile high club. Gene stares him down until he wilts back into his seat once more. (Later they go off and give it their best shot anyways, because they’re nothing if not opportunistic. Getting a break from the rest of their traveling circus is a relief. The rest of it… well, let’s say altitude does nothing to hamper Babe’s considerable talents.)

Being back on ground is such a relief that Gene almost drops to his knees and kisses the airport floor. The only thing that stops him is the knowledge that he’s got the one thing his traveling companions lack — dignity.

Renée is waiting for them outside of the airport. As soon as she spots Gene, she rushes forward and throws her arms around his neck. The force of her hug nearly crushes his ribs, but he returns it with just as much enthusiasm. Her murmured French washes over him like a soothing balm. When he pulls back to face her bright smile, he really does feel like crying.

_“Bienvenue à la maison, Eugene. Je te ai manqué.”_

He smiles softly back at her. _“Tu m’as manqué aussi.”_

In Louisiana, it still burns hot as a Philadelphia summer. Now, there is a chill in the air that penetrates straight to Gene’s bones. Being back in the city is like being dropped headfirst into a different world. He tilts his face towards the sky, allowing flurries of snow to drift down and catch him; he cannot help but smile.

It’s good to be back.

* * *

 

“Wait, wait a second — _that’s_ what it was all about?”

Babe’s shriek pierces the entire bar. There’s no point in wondering; Gene knows exactly what revelation he’s just stumbled upon. The same undiluted panic and horror in Babe’s voice is what he felt when he realized for the first time as well — he knows the sting.

It would have been nice if they could have had this discussion somewhere private, though. He’d rather not explain his romantic preferences in the middle of Nixon’s Bar, surrounded by their friends. The Easy guys are as close a group as he’s ever known, good as family to him — which is exactly why he’d really rather not go here now.

Babe, however, doesn’t feel the same way. Babe’s face is bright red; his eyes are bulging out of his skull; he’s choking on his own tongue. Babe might be having an aneurysm. “Are you fuckin’ _kidding_ me?”

“To be fair,” says Gene in a flat voice, “it wasn’t intentional.”

“So they say,” snickers Bill.

“It wasn’t.”

“Both of them?” Buck clarifies, like he can’t even believe it. Gene knows damn well he heard Bill perfectly the first time. Everyone’s trying to drag his humiliation out tonight, that’s all it is. “So they’re cousins, and they both fell in love with —“

“Gingers. The other guy’s head was as bright as the idiot sitting right here.” Bill clamps Babe in the back hard enough to make him choke some more.

Across the bar, Nixon purses his lips in sympathy. Skip sighs and raises his beer in a toast. “There’s a pain I know all too well.”

“Gingers,” Nixon adds. “They’re a curse.”

“Irresistible.”

“Like sirens.”

“Please stop talking,” Gene pleads.

Bill just chuckles to himself, pulling another round of beers across the table. He begins handing them out to his friends with all the generosity of a liberal king. “I don’t know how, I don’t know why,” he proclaims. “I don’t wanna know.”

“So _that’s_ why you asked all them questions.”

“Scientific curiosity,” Bill clarifies, and slides another beer in front of Gene. “Have one, Doc. Looks like you need it.”

Babe’s gape-mouthed expression swivels between Bill, Gene, and his own beer. He looks like one of those wind up toys that spin around over and over until just looking at them makes you dizzy. Gene offers him a shrug, and Babe lets out a hysterical little laugh.

“Please tell me I’m still your favorite,” is all he says.

Gene’s answering burst of laughter assures him he has nothing to worry about.


End file.
